The 5 Things Katniss Everdeen Wishes She Never Saw
by Taste the Rainbow- Or Else
Summary: Wishing was fruitless. She knew that all too well.


**So, I'm not quite sure I like what I did with this. I've seen quite a few authors do this format, and I fell instantly in love with it. But I'm still not really sure I like this particular work of mine...Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless. **

**Btw, my Hunger Games SYOT is a no-go. I'm sorry, I just have too much going on (all related to writing and keeping up my grades. And one other thing I just learned of today...:'() and I'm not skilled enough to do it, not yet. I'm sorry! All your tributes were fantastic, and i just can't reach that level yet. **

**Th****e Hunger Games and all its respective characters, themes, and suches like that belong to Suzanne Collins, not Taste the Rainbow- Or Else.**

The Five Things Katniss Everdeen Wishes She Never Saw (and one she's not quite sure about)

**Death**

It's not a secret that Katniss Everdeen is no stranger to Death's cold fingers. She's seen Death and she's been Death, but she has never enjoyed the sight. She doesn't like the blood or the fear, the wide eyes or the trembling hands. She still has bad dreams, consisting of Rue's shaky breath and ashen skin, and Finnick's shout of fear and mangled limbs. How Prim's eyes were wide with delight at the sight of her sister, and hard grim determination as she attempted to help and to heal those innocent children, just before her blue orbs changed again- burning with pain and fear at the hand of Gale's bombs. That was the worst. With everyone else, they knew what they were walking into. They didn't like it, but they accepted it, because, in their world, those things just _happened_. Prim didn't know. And Katniss still doesn't know whether or not she regrets not ever enlightening her. But she tries not to think about it, because she knows it's too late. It's already engraved in her memory, and while the sight will never leave and the pain will never cease, she still _knows. _And she thinks that maybe it's a blessing and a curse, and she should take advantage of it, because knowledge-the knowledge of the real, cruel world around them-is just another precious _something_ that Primrose Everdeen couldn't have.

**Fire**

"Girl on Fire" was her name. With the flames on her fingernails and the ash in her memories, that she was dubbed. No "Mockingjay of the rebellion" or "Katniss- Peeta Mellark's star-crossed lover". No, she was the thing she hated most. Fire, no longer a warming source of home, comfort, and survival, was the bane of her existence. It was the thing that killed her sister, practically killed her father (along with the crushing weight of the falling mines), and the thing that burned her to the core. Something she's seen _way_ too much of in her young life. Something she hopes to never have to encounter again. Something she wished she could remove from her past. Something she _can't_. Something that is burned into her memories and her dreams, and the one thing that will never leave her.

**Roses**

They're synthetic, like everything else in the Capitol. Their perfume was gentle and sweet, like the soft primrose, but sickening and too saccharine; bloody and unnatural. She almost threw a fit when Peeta planted them in her-their-yard, but she has grown used to them. The thought was nice, anyway, and that's all that counts. Though the scent-she didn't need to go through the rant again-was the worst part, smelled on _his_ breath, seeing the blooming petals could be just as bad. How could something so innocent be so deceptive? With its velvety life and piercing thorns-it was like the brutal, beautiful careers of the games. Deception always wins in the end. That's a lesson learned early on, breathed in with _the scent of roses_.

**Mutts**

They were unnatural _things_ created by the games. Made for torment and agony, just like everything else in that former Capitol world. The bane of her existence and the stars of her dreams. Wild dogs with twisted Tribute eyes; lizard muttations smelling of roses and blood; beautiful birds screaming out victims' haunted melodies; tracker jacker venom, planting horrid hallucinations and orange bubbles. Real or not real? Real. These memories were all too real. One of the _unfortunately'_s she had to pair with the truth. More pieces in this game- less like pawns and more like knights. They weren't real, not really, not like the memories they left, but all _too_ real at the same time. Ha, like Capitol citizens. Maybe they were mutts, too.

**Blood**

This was, perhaps, most obvious. Blood, in her dreams, was the glue. The sticky, red glue. Without it, they would all fall apart. Needless to say, she wishes those subconscious images did _not_ include it. She already had too much of it on her hands- the blood of Marvel on her hands and Glitter on her mind. The animals she killed every day, the old man in District 11, the hundreds who died because of the rebellion…that wasn't even scratching the surface, and she knew it. There wasn't much else to say, except she would be much better off without it. Everyone would. But that wasn't the way things worked, and she knew that, too.

**Rebirth**

She tried not to think much about this. It may seem like a good thing, but everything is a cycle. And in that cycle, when comes rebirth, death must come again.

* * *

><p>She would see these things again. That, she couldn't deny. Whether it be in her dreams or her backyard or her future, they would continue to haunt her. There was no point in wishing, she came to that realization long ago. But there was always good in hoping, so she went with that, feeling a bit smarter and less like she was falling for memories' trap.<p>

And hope, she did.


End file.
